


Neverland

by AkashaTheKitty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Captivity, Dark, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Murder, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 23:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkashaTheKitty/pseuds/AkashaTheKitty
Summary: In a rare moment of clarity, he saw himself through her eyes, saw what he’d become. Suddenly he felt so very tired. He slid down and sat with his head back against the bars, caring not one whit that he might seem vulnerable. She wouldn’t be able to get out.She’d never get out.





	Neverland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ariel_Riddle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariel_Riddle/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Once_Upon_a_Parchment](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Once_Upon_a_Parchment) collection. 



> This was my entry for the Once Upon a Parchment competition, where it was entered anonymously. It did very well, and I hope you'll like it too. :)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 
> 
> And so much love to my amazing beta on this story, [DelicateScholar](http://dramione.org/viewuser.php?uid=2538), who also made me this amazing aesthetic:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Peter Pan - 
> 
> Peter Pan takes Wendy and her siblings to Neverland. There, Peter is plagued by the pirate Hook, who is himself plagued by the crocodile who bit off his hand. In the end, Wendy, Peter, and the Lost Boys escape Hook's clutches.
> 
> Suggested Pairing: Tom Riddle Jr and Hermione Granger
> 
> All canon character, plots, and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work.
> 
> Thank you to my beta for their time and work on this story.

 

 

He stood in it, surrounded by it. The rich, coppery scent of blood assaulted Draco's senses and he embraced it, breathing it in. Once he had feared the blood, the pain, but now it was all a part of him. A part of who he was, who he'd become.

 

Another beat before he closed his eyes, exhaling. When he opened his eyes again, he focused on the fetid water and mould in the corners. Honestly, he preferred the blood. It sustained only one host, and when the blood left you, you knew you were going to die.

 

He'd seen that moment in his victims' eyes often enough, when fear became terror, and terror became knowledge. Sometimes they even made it to a kind of catatonic acceptance, but not often. There was simply no enjoyment in toying with a victim who didn't respond.

 

"You're wanted upstairs, Master Malfoy," someone muttered at Draco's elbow. Draco slowly turned. It was one of the other Death Eaters, a young man. He was averting his eyes, fear and disgust rolling off him in waves.

 

He wouldn't last long if he didn't learn to control his emotions.

 

Draco sighed and gazed towards the other cells of the dungeon. He'd been about to make his rounds, get to know the other prisoners a little better. One might argue that it was pointless, but it was one of his few enjoyments to watch them, talk to them, see their fear and feel the anticipation build as he entered their cell covered in blood of someone they'd heard scream and beg for their life.

 

It wasn't nearly as fun to put on a show upstairs.

 

"I'll be there shortly," he replied, mentally dubbing the man _Twitchy._ They were all interchangeable. Everyone was. He had yet to see a single death make a whit of difference in the grand scheme of things.

 

After Twitchy had scurried out of sight, Draco left the dungeons and slowly and deliberately began walking up to the Grand Hall. He could hear the sounds of depravity echo down the corridors. His lips curled in disgust. He didn't know when the Cause had turned into this. Grown men acting like animals while the Dark Lord sat on his throne, celebrating this new world of his.

 

When Draco entered, the noise immediately died down. The disgust on Draco's lips turned into smugness as he glanced around. The ones that looked at him did so with a mix of anticipation and fear, while others hid their faces to conceal their revulsion. His father was situated to the side of the Dark Lord but slightly lower. A position of honour earned through his son.

 

Lucius didn't meet his eyes either, his hands tightly clasped in his lap to keep them from shaking.

 

Poor Daddy dearest didn't enjoy these exhibitions either. It was a shame that no other life could suit Draco any longer. This was who he was and who he'd always be.

 

"How nice of you to join us, Draco," the Dark Lord said in his deceptively gentle way.

 

Draco merely bowed his head in a show of respect. But then he met the Dark Lord's gaze head on. His lack of fear was a side-effect of the violent, bloody grooming he'd been subjected to for years in order to take this position. He'd been broken down completely, leaving an empty shell for the Monster. The Monster that was now lurking below the surface, taking pleasure in how even the Dark Lord showed a flash of discomfort.

 

_Afraid you might not be able to control your pet?_ Draco couldn't keep from smirking.

 

The Dark Lord jerked his eyes away and motioned to someone. The doors opened and a woman was dragged in. She stumbled from weakness and looked like she hadn't bathed in weeks and her clothes were in rags.

 

Draco sighed.

 

Another woman? Really? When they were already in such short supply?

 

"You know," he drawled to no one in particular. "One of these days you might want to keep a few women around. It's easier to keep bloodlines going with babies."

 

The Dark Lord chuckled. "We keep the ones that are worthy. Like your own fiancée."

 

His fiancée. Right.

 

He'd had his heart set on marrying Greengrass, but then she'd had an unfortunate run-in with the Dark Lord's wrath... or his amusement. It was always difficult to know which was which. Her death came before the Monster, and the pain of it had fuelled the process. Now he was meant to marry Parkinson. His eyes skimmed the room again. She wasn't here. No women were. He wasn't that surprised. Parkinson tended to keep to the shadows and avoid eye contact at all cost. She was a far cry from who she'd once been. She wasn't a Death Eater anyway.

 

Women were too clever to become Death Eaters.

 

"Still," he muttered. "You'd think breeding would be more of a priority." Their numbers were dwindling. And the ones that were left were driven by madness and bloodlust. Including Draco himself.

 

The woman stumbled again, landing on her bound hands in front of him. She looked up at him through her matted brown hair, eyes filled with apprehension.

 

"Well, hello there," Draco said in his kindliest voice, smothering a smile as hope filled her eyes.

 

Maybe at one time he could have taken pity on the woman or felt remorse for what he was about to do. He rolled his shoulders and gave up control to the Monster.

 

***

 

Consciousness slowly returned. Draco remained still for a moment, eyes closed, savouring the satisfaction he felt. Even when he didn't remember what had happened, the feeling always stayed.

 

More than once he'd wondered if being a werewolf was the same. You lost control of your body and mind, but was somehow still responsible. Yet the Monster that lived inside him was more pure than that.

 

Pure evil.

 

Once it had scared him. He'd been terrified of himself, pleading with his captors to put him out of his misery. He'd clawed at his own flesh and hit his head against the cold stone walls in order to make it go away. When none of that worked, he'd tried to master the Monster, to suppress it. To everyone's surprise, he'd actually had some success with that. But when he kept the Monster down for too long, he became agitated, enraged, and prone to hallucinations. He soon learnt that mastering the Monster meant letting it out from time to time.

 

Of course, they hadn't even been done with him yet.

 

He slowly opened his eyes. He was standing in the middle of the floor like before but felt sticky and grimy all over. He raised his hand and studied the varying shades of drying blood. Apparently he'd been at it for a while. He also appeared to have some in his hair.

 

He sighed. "Did I even use my wand this time?"

 

The Dark Lord, still situated atop his throne, chuckled. "A lesser wizard might consider not revealing their weakness."

 

Draco smirked. "You mean, a lesser wizard would lie to cover up a perceived weakness. It doesn't matter if I remember, does it?" He glanced down at the broken corpse at his feet, well knowing that the flippancy would infuriate the Dark Lord. But what would he do? Destroy his best weapon? If he did that, he would lose a lot more than he would gain. He had very few competent people left. That was what happened when one murdered indiscriminately.

 

Looking over the body, Draco crouched down next to it. He'd been correct in his earlier assessment. He'd taken his time with this one. He noted a tear still on her cheek and felt the Monster stir again. Well, that explained it. It was always a lot more fun when they cried. He straightened, only to pause at the sight of a second body. A male. That one hadn't taken too long. He'd had his throat viciously torn out.

 

Draco only hoped he hadn't used his teeth for it. He hated when he had to pick human flesh out of his teeth for days.

 

"Where did he come from?" he asked no one in particular, going over and nudging the body with his boot to see his face better. The hair was completely drenched with blood and the face... well, there wasn't a whole lot left.

 

The Dark Lord cackled again. "He was weak," he said, mad delight in his eyes. "We needed to set an example." He motioned to someone and the bodies were unceremoniously grabbed and dragged away.

 

Right. Because it wasn't like two thirds of their number had been 'examples'. If the people on the other side had any smarts, they'd simply sit back and wait while this side killed themselves off for them.

 

"You disapprove, Draco?" The cold question interrupted Draco's thoughts.

 

Draco smiled back just as coldly. "How can I disapprove as long as you give me playthings, my Lord?"

 

The Dark Lord nodded, satisfied with this response and then brightened in his own creepy way. "That reminds me. I do actually have another plaything for you." He motioned at one of the guards to remove the corpses. "This next one you will have to promise to keep alive for a long... long... time." He grinned, a sight that almost gave Draco chills.

 

He didn't show it, though. While servility was a requirement for survival, weakness would get you killed. "And who earned this pleasure?"

 

The Dark Lord's soulless eyes almost twinkled. "You'll see."

 

Draco sighed, bored with the carnage for now. "Might I have a private word before we continue?"

 

The Dark Lord nodded and with a glance, the room cleared. The grown men nearly stumbling over each other to get away. Draco would be amused if he weren't so disgusted with their squeamishness.

 

"I finally broke the last Weasley," he said once people had gone. "I have all his known hideouts and a list of witches and wizards we're up against. I've already dispatched a few men to survey the hideouts and see who we can nab."

 

"And Weasley?"

 

"I'm afraid he was killed by my... interrogation techniques."

 

The Dark Lord tilted his head. "Too bad you deprived us of the enjoyment of seeing that."

 

Draco's disgust grew. Watching, always watching. Never did the Dark Lord bother to do much of his own work, but instead he relied on his tools to do everything for him. The crazy fool had been in power for so long with no one daring to go against him that he no longer even had his wand at the ready.

 

Certainly, Draco suspected that he might have a contingency plan in case of his own death--he'd already come back once, after all--but that would take a while, and with his numbers decimated as they were, one might assume he'd be even weaker if he was killed and made it back.

 

It was worth testing that theory.

 

He made it quick. The Monster was displeased, but nevertheless... " _Avada Kedavra._ "

 

***

Killing the Dark Lord had been strangely unsatisfying. Wasn't he supposed to be... special? You'd think that when you killed an evil lord who'd beaten death once before, _something_ out of the ordinary would happen. Pondering on this, Draco decided he'd better wait and see if this corpse was _really_ dead. So he'd concealed the body and hauled it down to an empty cell and obfuscated the door, so the others would forget about it for a while. Then he told everyone their Dark Lord had gone away. Nobody dared question him.

 

Draco braced one hand against the sink while he furiously scrubbed his teeth with the toothbrush. He might enjoy murderous rampages as much as the next monster, but the constant smell and taste of blood was too much. He'd just bathed, so all that was left was the taste.

 

He spat, eyeing the foam in the sink. All white. It was probably as good as it got. He gargled, spat again, and rinsed the sink.

 

As he watched the foam circle down the drain he couldn't help but grimace at how mundane this scene was. As he looked up at his own mirror image, that too was quite ordinary. A young man, fresh from the shower, ready to take on life. He straightened so more of his torso could be seen. The scars, criss-crossing and intertwining, somewhat broke the illusion. He tensed his muscles, to watch them ripple and pucker. He didn't even remember how he'd received each individual scar, but it was easy to see from the varying sizes and shapes that an assortment of tools had been used.

 

Ah, growing up certainly was painful.

 

He grabbed a shirt and went to see his new possession.

 

A large golden cage that reminded Draco of an over-sized bird cage was now situated in the corner of his private room inside it was a female form. Her brown, frizzy hair was in knots but some care had been taken to wash her and dress her in clean clothes. She seemed to be unable to make her mind whether she wanted to shy away from him or snarl at him through the bars, so she did a mixture of both while slowly turning to keep her eyes on him as he walked the length of her prison.

 

Feisty. He felt the excitement of a challenge surge in his chest. This one might _actually_ last a while. Her wide-eyed gaze landed on him and he felt a stir of recognition mingling with the excitement.

 

_Granger._

 

He walked up close to her and tilted his head, studying her. She was shaking, and her eyes were looking dangerously moist.

 

The Monster stirred.

 

Draco growled. "Don't cry," he ground out. "Weakness is death."

 

She blinked and slowly looked up at him as if she only just realised he could speak. She stared blindly for a second, but then recognition flared and she threw herself at the bars, at _him_. Now, normally that wouldn't have surprised him. She had her fair share of reasons to want to claw his eyes out, after all, even discounting the current situation. But she seemed... hopeful?

 

"Draco? Draco Malfoy?" she asked, somewhat breathlessly. "Oh, Merlin, it _is_ you!"

 

He frowned, now confused. "That's not a happy thing."

 

"But it is! I... I know you, I know..." She stopped up and swallowed through a dry throat. Death Eaters weren't known for keeping their captives well-hydrated. "I know you aren't bad."

 

He felt an unexpected burst of laughter bubble up. "Good one! You'll make a fine pet."

 

He turned to leave, but her voice halted him. "We can get you out of this place, protect you."

 

Amusement quirked his lips again. "I'll let you know if I need the protection of a caged prisoner."

 

"We have resources. W-we can help you."

 

_Help me_... Draco's lips curved even more. How often had he screamed those words? Screams that turned into whimpers with no one ever coming for him.

 

Her eyes softened as if she read his mind. "I don't know what they did to you during these past years, but it's over now. You don't have to endure any longer."

 

Draco stared at her for a moment, unable to even imagine such a world. Then he grinned, flashing the Monster behind his eyes. "Funny. That's almost exactly what I tell my victims right before I kill them."

 

***

 

His new prisoner was amusing to watch, so he did so for days. She was like a tasty little treat put on display so he could savour the thought of consuming her in due time.

 

She talked. A lot. But unlike most, she didn't plead. She reasoned, argued, coaxed.

 

He liked the sound of her voice.

 

And her face. He liked her face. Not that it was a spectacular face, per se. It was just... familiar. In a good way. Her face reminded him of another lifetime. A time when his biggest concerns were popularity, Quidditch, and exams. A time when the height of injustice had been Harry Potter and his friends unfairly stealing the House Cup his house had worked so hard to earn all year. A time when he'd thought his life was just beginning.

 

A time before the Monster.

 

She didn't seem to mind terribly that he stared at her, although she seemed to be realising that he wasn't responding appropriately to what she was saying. She scowled briefly at him, but then started again with renewed energy.

 

She was the best present he had received in years.

 

***

 

The chatter was nice. Draco was unused to anyone talking to him at length, so he found the constant flow of words soothing. By now she'd given up on getting a response, and simply spoke to fill the silence. She talked about her friends and how worried she was about them. She talked about their time at school. She even talked about growing up in a Muggle world, unaware of magic. Draco would merely sit in front of the cage or lie on his bed and listen.

 

Sometimes he would have to leave, but he was always careful not to be gone too long. And he saw to it that she received food a few times a day and even escorted her to use his facilities. "Try anything and I'll get you a bucket," he'd said, but she didn't try anything. She seemed determined to enlist his help instead. She had no idea how dangerous that approach was. Stabbing him with a nail clipper would be more likely to succeed.

 

He was just locking her cage again when someone burst into his quarters. Draco sneered at this intrusion, flashing teeth and letting the Monster peek out from behind his eyes.

 

The intruder paled. Ah, _Twitchy._ "F-forgive me, Master Malfoy. But he's here! Our security is breached!"

 

Granger threw herself at the bars in her eagerness at this news, and Draco made sure to double check that the lock was secure. He put an extra spell on it, just in case. Then he finally turned back to the other man. "That's no reason to be so uncouth."

 

Twitchy's eyes flashed in bewilderment. "But M-Master... Potter--" He cut off abruptly and gasped for air.

 

Draco maintained the spell with ease, wand out, watching as the man went to his knees, gasping as his lungs were crushed. "I repeat," Draco coldly said, "that's not an excuse. Now, apologise to the lady for entering her boudoir uninvited."

 

Twitchy's wild eyes went to Granger. "I-I'm s-sorry," he gasped.

 

Draco released the spell. "Now go alert my father. He'll know what to do. This is nothing we didn't expect."

 

After Twitchy had scurried off, Draco turned to Hermione with a sinister smile. "Anything you'd like me to tell your friend before I kill him?"

 

Hermione clutched the bars until her knuckles went white. "Please..."

 

Draco rolled his eyes and strode towards the door. "No, silly. That's _his_ line."

 

***

 

Draco stood on a thick branch about three metres above ground, peering through the darkness at the form sneaking closer. Potter had breached the perimeter on his own, and was clutching his wand, slowly moving through the shallow woods to get to the building housing their headquarters.

 

It was a bold move, Draco supposed, if a ridiculously stupid one. Where was Potter's backup? Did he honestly imagine he could sneak in, grab his friend, and sneak back out undetected? Didn't he realise they had been prepared for him ever since they'd grabbed her?

 

The Death Eaters' numbers might be decimated, but the able bodies they had were all here, currently watching Potter, awaiting orders.

 

Draco's eyes narrowed. Perhaps Potter was drawing all the firepower while another team was sneaking in to get her. Draco looked back at the building. Better safe than sorry. He indicated for one of the teams to go back with a toss of his head, and they silently sank back into the darkness.

 

There was a squeal below and Draco frowned. Potter had bumped into someone, and was now brandishing his wand at them. The squealer appeared to be a female...

 

Draco let out a deep sigh. _Pansy_. It appeared nobody had told her that they'd been compromised, because now she was on the ground, frantically scrambling backwards, away from the threat.

 

How ridiculous this was.

 

Draco stepped forward and made the jump down. He liked to think that he appeared graceful, with black billowing robes, fiery red half-mask and striking blond hair, but unfortunately it was too dark for anyone to see. He hit the ground with a thud, and slowly straightened. "Potter," he drawled, as if this was nothing but a chance meeting.

 

Potter's attention was drawn away from Pansy, still cowering in the darkness. He frowned and then recognition dawned. "Malfoy? Where is she?"

 

Draco raised an eyebrow behind the mask. "Not here," he said, indicating the empty space beside him. "You are trespassing. How kind of you to make this easy for us."

 

Potter snarled. "You know as well as I do that your _Lord_ doesn't want me dead, and I'm not about to let you capture me. So why don't you just give me Hermione, and I'll be on my way?"

 

Draco smiled, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the others moving closer. "Ah, but how should I tell you this... when my Lord sends _me_ , he's not that concerned with my target surviving."

 

Potter snickered. He actually snickered. "Right, Malfoy. You're so bad. What are you going to do? Tell your father?"

 

Draco's smile didn't waver. He knew that he'd been a well-kept secret. Still, it was telling that Potter hadn't heard about him at all. Someone close to him had known for months. Interesting. He was looking forward to learn the details of that.

 

He slowly raised his wandless hand and then snapped his fingers. The other Death Eaters came fully into view. Potter's gaze darted between them, but the lack of surprise in his eyes told Draco that he hadn't been as clueless about his surroundings as assumed.

 

Good. There was nothing worse than a quarry that posed no challenge.

 

A small wave of Draco's hand had the silent, silver-masked men crowding in on Potter. Potter's eyes darted faster and he was poised to run, but there was nowhere to go. Suddenly Potter's eyes alighted on Pansy, and he sprinted the few steps towards her.

 

Gasping, she raised her wand and wildly shot some spell off in Potter's direction. Potter stopped dead in his tracks, the look of disbelief on his face almost comical. Then he looked down, the disbelief only intensifying.

 

On the ground was his right hand, wand still in it. The spell Pansy had fired had cleanly severed it from his arm.

 

Potter raised his arm, staring at where his hand used to be, and then he stared back at Pansy, who'd withdrawn further, whimpering in fear.

 

Draco couldn't help it. He laughed. The sound was clear in the quiet of the night. The Death Eaters had halted their approach and were now awaiting their next order like creepy statues. They knew better than to partake in the mirth.

 

The sound seemed to wake Potter from the stupor. He snatched the wand from his useless, dead limb and, cradling his wounded arm, he brandished the wand at Draco.

 

Draco spread his arms as in welcome, but rather than attack him, Potter dropped some kind of concealment spell. By the time Draco managed to counter it, Potter had gone. No doubt fled to the boundary of the woods where he could Disapparate.

 

Not even angry or annoyed about it, Draco chuckled and went to pick up the dismembered hand. He played a little with the fingers, enjoying how they bounced back when he pushed them. Then he noticed Pansy still on the ground, staring up at him with wide eyes.

 

"Here!" Draco said, tossing her the hand with a grin. She didn't even scream, simply stared at the hand in horror. Draco chuckled again. "I know," he pleasantly said. "It's still warm. But you earned it!"

 

Then he leisurely began strolling back to their building.

 

***

 

Whistling as he entered his room, he first didn't hear the gasp. When he finally noticed Granger's distress, she was staring at him with huge, pleading eyes, while her fingers clenched the bars of her cage so hard, they were stark white against the burnished golden colour.

 

When she had his attention, she choked out, "Is... is he dead?"

 

The Monster stirred. No, it _purred_ inside him. It had been a long time since a non-kill had felt so satisfying to it. Her distress only added to it, so he savoured it a moment.

 

Her eyes filled with tears and the nature of the Monster's attention shifted. Draco was at the cage in a flash. " _Don't_ cry!"

 

"B-blood," she whispered, choking back her tears.

 

He looked down and then raised his hands. They were red with blood. He hadn't even noticed. He grinned, admiring the way the light shone on the wet parts.

 

Her face showed nothing but horror.

 

"You don't like it?" he asked.

 

She wordlessly shook her head. Shrugging, he went to wash up.

 

By the time he came back into his room, he was humming again.

 

Granger still stared fearfully at him and he sighed. "Relax. He's fine. Well, sort of fine. He might need a hand." He snickered.

 

"Really?" The hope in her eyes would look pathetic on anyone else, but on her it seemed to bring a glow to her entire being that he had a hard time looking away from.

 

"Really," he grumbled, suddenly annoyed with her interest in another man's life. He couldn't think of a single person that would care overly much if _he_ died. Even his father might ultimately be relieved.

 

She cocked her head at him, her fear and worry abating. "Come closer," she then said.

 

When he did, she touched his face.

 

The physical contact--the _willing_ physical contact--sent a shock through him unlike anything he could remember ever feeling before. The warmth from her hand travelled through his bloodstream, pulsed out to every limb and centred on his chest, making his dead, black heart pound.

 

She smiled, a little sadly, and her thumb caressed a crease near his lip. "You have a scar here," she whispered.

 

He laughed, a twisted sound. "That's the least of them. Literally. They were good about leaving my face alone."

 

She withdrew her hand to his great sorrow. "Show me," she said, her voice still barely audible.

 

He considered, but then shrugged it off. Maybe it was better if she saw. Besides, he should probably change those robes before he went to see his father anyway. He yanked off the thick cloth garment and then started unbuttoning his shirt underneath and shrugged that off as well.

 

He watched as her lips parted and her eyes widened with each centimetre of his skin revealed. His jagged, discoloured, broken skin.

 

Then she reached out to gently follow one of the more heinous ridges with the tips of her fingers.

 

He shuddered. The Monster was strangely quiet until her fingers reached his abdomen. Then lust stirred and with it, his Monster.

 

The two were forever entwined, twisted together, ugly and terrifying. Sometimes even to him.

 

He caught her hand. "That's enough."

 

She blinked up at him in surprise, but obediently withdrew.

 

In a rare moment of clarity, he saw himself through her eyes, saw what he'd become. Suddenly he felt so very tired. He slid down and sat with his head back against the bars, caring not one whit that he might seem vulnerable. She wouldn't be able to get out.

 

She'd never get out.

 

For one truly insane moment he contemplated what might happen if he _let_ her out.

 

Then her slim fingers started combing through his hair. He leaned into them, immediately forgetting that notion. She was _his_.

 

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry for what they did to you. I'm sorry we didn't help you."

 

He laughed, the sound rough and sarcastic. "And what might you have done about it?"

 

"I don't know. _Something._ Maybe we could have saved you, got you out. But we never thought, never imagined..."

 

Draco couldn't help the rather cynical grimace. "If you could've done that, then you could've won too. Obviously, you couldn't."

 

Her fingers stilled for a moment. "We... we have made mistakes in the past. Mistakes that cost lives and victories. Mistakes that are perhaps unforgivable." She sighed. "But all we can do is look forward."

 

_Mistakes_. His only mistake had been to be born. And perhaps to allow Severus Snape to 'save' him. Not that the fool had had any idea what he'd led Draco into. Who could have guessed how much joy his very own aunt would take in torturing young Pureblood men, including her own kin. Most had broken, died. Draco was the only one who'd lived. And once he was considered ready to serve, he'd taken great delight in letting his Monster tear her apart, limb from limb.

 

Their Dark Lord hadn't even blinked at the loss. Had even laughed with delight. So much for her lifelong dedication.

 

"My actions are very deliberate, so if you're trying to bond with me about regrets, you're wasting your breath."

 

"Every day is a new chance to change... When Harry comes back for me--"

 

Draco abruptly growled and she squeaked, withdrawing her hands.

 

"Your precious Potter will _never_ get you back, do you understand me?"

 

"We could both go with--"

 

He laughed harshly. "That's where you're wrong. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you! Now do that thing again with your fingers."

 

Her hands reluctantly returned, her fingers methodically combing through his hair.

 

If they were shaking, he ignored it.

 

***

 

"Hello, Father."

 

Lucius Malfoy turned around hesitantly, as if reluctant to face his only son. "Draco. I expected you sooner."

 

Draco rolled his neck, his head still humming with the pleasure of physical touch. "I got distracted."

 

His father flinched, probably envisioning one of Draco's usual pastimes. "Potter."

 

"Ah... he escaped."

 

His father stared at him in astonishment. "Yet, you seem..."

 

"The entertainment value was high."

 

"He's missing a limb, then?"

 

Draco's lips parted in a grin. His father knew him so well.

 

Lucius shuddered and looked away. "The Dark Lord won't be pleased."

 

"Then the Dark Lord can do his own capturing." Draco held up his hand, remembering the way it had felt to hold Potter's and play with it. "If I'd had my way, I'd have taken the entrails from his body and hung them from tree to tree like festive streamers."

 

"Draco. _Draco_. Look at me. You're not invincible!" His father had put his hands on his shoulders and had shaken him to get his attention.

 

Draco flashed his teeth in a snarl and shoved the other man away. "You know better than to touch me."

 

"And you _should_ know better than to challenge the man... the _being_ , who brought about all of this!" He swung out his arms as if to show off the world at large.

 

The world that Draco had been made for.

 

"Didn't you challenge him when you got Mother out?"

 

For a moment his father's face was blank, uncomprehending, then his eyes darkened. "We do not talk about that, Draco. You know that."

 

Draco growled. On the very day he'd finally been allowed out of the isolation they had kept him in for years, shaping him into their perfect weapon, his mother had gone missing. He still remembered the look on his father's face when he'd asked him where his mother was and if he could see her.

 

_"She's... she's gone."_

 

_"What do you mean gone? I only just came back!"_

 

_His father had stared into space, looking more lost than Draco had ever seen him. "We didn't even know you were gone. If we had known... but we didn't. And she had to go before she knew about you."_

 

_"What are you talking about? Where is she?" There'd been an edge of hysteria to Draco's voice and he felt the Monster he couldn't quite control yet rise to the fore._

 

_His father had finally looked back. "Don't worry, son. One day we'll join her."_

 

_"You mean you know where she is?"_

 

_His father slowly nodded. "Yes... Yes. I smuggled her out last night. Hid her. Nobody will ever find her. She's safe." He'd sighed heavily and turned away._

 

_Draco had latched onto those last words. His mother was safe._

 

"Who cares if anybody hears?" Draco spat. "Who will they send to finish her? Me?"

 

His father's jaw clenched. "Wouldn't you?"

 

"Why would I kill my own mother?"

 

"Why would you kill your own aunt?"

 

Draco felt the Monster stir, snarling at his father's words. "Dear old Aunt Bella deserved what she got and so much more." The Monster rose even further, stirring in his chest, clogging his throat, peeking out through his eyes. "If I didn't think that crazy cunt would have enjoyed it, I would have raped her too. Put my cock in her filthy snatch while I cut her up. Pounded her while she bled out."

 

His father looked physically ill.

 

Draco smirked, making the Monster reluctantly recede. "I didn't, though. I left the incest to her. I'm sure she'd be so disappointed in me."

 

With the Monster finally buried deep in his belly, Draco was alone in enjoying his father's horrified stare.

 

***

 

_"Mother." The boy approached the sleeping form on the bed, the lush carpet muffling his steps._

 

_She didn't stir._

 

_He stopped up, staring down at the woman who'd delivered him into this world and then abandoned him to it. He'd cried for her, called out to her, and not once had she answered him. Not once had she come._

 

_Yet here she was, sleeping peacefully in this luxurious room._

 

_The boy looked down. He'd have gladly killed for even just this rug when he was trapped in that cold, hard cell. A rug like this would have been an endless source of comfort to him._

 

_He looked up again, studied the features of the sleeping face. They were so alike the ones on the woman that_ had _visited him. The woman who'd beat him, starved him, made him sleep on the floor like an animal. The woman who'd laughed and taunted whenever he cried, and had taken control of his mind and body to make him do anything from eating the meat of some old dog that had died a week ago to fucking her._

 

_A sudden flare of hatred surged up, making him stumble, but no sound came out of his mouth. He'd learnt a long time ago to squelch sounds of distress. The burning spread inside him from the chest out, making him shiver with rage... and anticipation. He felt it behind his eyes, climbing into his brain._

 

Draco woke with a start. Sitting up, he shook his head, clearing the fog from his brain. A fun part about being insane was that fantasy and reality tended to bleed together and sometimes he had difficulties telling them apart. He'd never even seen his mother after he'd been released.

 

He shook his head again, and looked over at the cage. His prisoner was soundly asleep on her pallet.

 

He was about to go back to sleep when there was a slight knock on his door. He frowned. Usually people knew better than to wake him up. He wasn't what you might call a very friendly person when woken.

 

The knock sounded again.

 

Sighing, he got up, grabbed his wand and went to the door and opened it. On the other side of it was Twitchy, sweating profusely and flinching at every movement.

 

"Well?" Draco demanded.

 

"P-Potter."

 

"W-what about him?" Draco mimicked.

 

"We have him. We..." Twitchy swallowed. "The information you extracted from the Weasley must've been good. We caught him."

 

Draco snorted, half in disbelief, half in disappointment. The idea that Potter had just stood around, ripe for the picking, seemed ludicrous.

 

He grabbed his robes. "Show me."

 

***

 

It really was Potter. He'd been thrown into one of their filthy cells, forced to his knees, his hands secured behind him with magically enforced bindings.

 

Draco frowned. This was wrong on so many levels. "Call in everyone and make sure this place is secure. This might be a trap. Even if it isn't, his people will be coming."

 

Potter started laughing. "People? What people? You already _have_ all my people."

 

"Didn't we send your girlfriend back months ago? I thought that was rather nice of us."

 

For the first time Potter showed anything but humour or indifference. "She's dead, you arsehole."

 

Draco's frown deepened. "I'm sure we didn't do that."

 

"Your lot made it so you couldn't live with herself. I hope someone sets your robes on fire and you live for a long, long time trying to put it out."

 

"Ah." Draco felt a pang of disappointment. "That's what I get for doing my best not to kill someone. Tsk. I'll remember not to bother in the future."

 

"Where are my friends?"

 

"Ah. I'm afraid they're rather indisposed at the moment."

 

"Damn it, Malfoy. Are they alive?"

 

When Draco didn't deign to answer, Potter made a frustrated sound and began struggling against his bonds. Draco noticed Potter was wearing something like a harness over his shoulders. His eyebrows shot up at what he saw.

 

"A... hook, Potter? Really? With all the magic in the world at your disposal, _that_ is what you come up with?"

 

"All the magic in the world yet nowhere to go for the spells without risking immediate and painful death. The prosthetic does its job." Potter snickered. "Just ask your friends."

 

Draco turned around, giving Twitchy a questioning look.

 

Twitchy squirmed. "He blinded Curly," he muttered.

 

Draco sighed. "Of course he did. Imbeciles."

 

Potter laughed even harder.

 

"Well," Draco said, ignoring the moron behind him. "It seems that painful death found you anyway, but don't worry, it won't be immediate."

 

"Oh, good. Wouldn't want my misery to be cut short."

 

Draco smiled. "Seems like we understand each other. Now, where--" Draco cut off, frowning again, as he noticed someone else had slipped in through the open door. "Pansy?"

 

She cowered against the wall, cringing away from Draco and Twitchy, her eyes locked on Potter.

 

Great. Draco really didn't have the patience for this. "Pansy, do you mind? I was about to torment Potter. Or are you here to watch?"

 

"Give him to me." It was nothing but a whisper.

 

Once again Draco found himself surprised. "You? You want him? For what?"

 

She smiled, the look slow and devious and possibly deranged. "So I can have the full set."

 

Yup, definitely deranged.

 

Draco gave it some thought, but then threw up his hands. "Fine. I'm going back to bed. You can play with Potter for a while. Just... try not to kill him until we have what we need."

 

***

 

As Draco went back into his room, his now fully awake captive was once again grasping the bars of her cage and staring at him.

 

"Where did you go?" she asked.

 

He tsked and straightened out his sleeves. "That's what I get for making you the lady of the manor."

 

"D-did you kill anyone?"

 

At that he raised an eyebrow. "Today?"

 

She grasped the bars harder. "Yes." Her voice was hoarse and desperate.

 

He considered for a moment, then shrugged. "What does it matter what I did today?"

 

"It matters."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because every day the new choices we make matter. Your choices show who you want to be going forward."

 

"And why should I have made those choices today?"

 

She looked at him for a long moment, then averted her eyes. "You're right. Why would you?" She let go of the bars and went to sit on her pile of blankets in the corner.

 

He frowned at her pallet as if he only just saw it. "You should have a real bed."

 

"I have a real bed. Just not here."

 

He flashed the Monster out of habit but then fought it down. He wanted to interact with her himself without some madness guiding his every word and action. He didn't need the Monster in order to be angry, though. "You have nothing outside of this room, you hear me? Nothing! This is your world now."

 

She looked unfazed. "In that case, why would I need a bed? I am but a toy for your amusement, after all, one that will soon be discarded." At his surprise, she smirked. "You mistake my optimism for naiveté. And you mistake naiveté for weakness."

 

He drew closer to the cage, fascinated with the being inside it. She was half-right. He had considered her naive, but he had never considered her weak. If Pansy had only had that strength, he'd have married her.

 

This was a person who might actually be able to hold her own against his Monster.

 

The hope that flared inside him was startling and disconcerting in its unfamiliarity.

 

"You're... really not afraid of me." The words tasted strange on his tongue. He'd never been around anyone who knew who and what he was and yet remained unafraid.

 

"What people fear is the unknown. I know pain. I know death. So why would I fear you?"

 

Her dark eyes challenged him and drew him even closer. Now it was his fingers wrapping around the cold, magically reinforced bars. "Exactly," he breathed. "That's why I don't fear the Dark Lord."

 

"Yet you still fear his name."

 

He smiled. "Voldemort."

 

At first she looked stunned, but then she became excited and jumped off her make-shift bed. "You could challenge him!"

 

Draco almost laughed at her idealism. "I have no desire to."

 

"Then I'll ask again tomorrow. And the day after that. And every day until you kill me."

 

His smile faltered at the thought of killing her. "I still have a job to do."

 

"I'm sure you can find a way to do it without killing people."

 

"You mean like with Ginny Weasley?"

 

"How did you know about--" The excitement in her eyes died and she looked away, her throat working. She was probably trying to swallow her disgust. "Of course you knew."

 

He could tell that he didn't have to spell out that not only did he _know_ about the youngest Weasley, he'd been the one who'd hurt her. He'd hurt her in unimaginable ways. Again and again, over countless hours, days...

 

Even now, the memories excited him. He'd kept her far longer than any other.

 

"We sent her back. I only just learnt recently that she died by her own hand. How disappointing. My condolences." His voice was cool, not betraying his annoyance at this particular turn of events.

 

Granger's fists clenched. "That... that was a while ago," she finally whispered.

 

"So is that what you want? What we did to her?"

 

She swallowed again and blinked rapidly. "Of course not." Then she clenched her teeth. "But if that's the only alternative, so be it."

 

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "She still died."

 

"And another might have lived. We have to take what we can get." She tossed her hair back, causing the Monster to purr in a way Draco had never felt before.

 

His Monster might be falling in love.

 

***

 

A few days later he decided to see how Potter was doing. Pansy had never requested a plaything before, so Draco was unsure whether she was going to cut chunks of his flesh or force him to play tea party.

 

As it turned out, neither.

 

Yet when Draco entered the cell, Potter was staring up at him with wild eyes. "Get her away from me. Make her stop," he rasped from his position on the floor. He must have been bespelled to stay on his knees.

 

Draco surveyed his longtime nemesis. His robes were torn, his shirt was open, and his chest and abdomen had only superficial cuts. Draco smirked and grabbed Potter by his shirt, hauling him up to his feet. "Why?" he said silkily. "Because she raped you? You think I wouldn't?" His smirk widened at the look of horror and disgust in Potter's eyes.

 

True, males weren't quite as attractive to Draco as females, but once violence and fear entered the mix--and it always did--the Monster hardly cared either way.

 

And it was such a valuable tool.

 

He abruptly let go of Potter, who fell back down, his legs unable to sustain him after days in the same position. "Count your blessings," he then absent-mindedly said. "She's a lot gentler with you than I would be."

 

Then he left, the sounds of Potter retching following him through the dungeons.

 

***

 

Draco sat on the floor just looking at Granger. He'd given her a book, and she sat inside her cage, on her pallet, in her threadbare clothes, and read. She completely ignored him and looked as dignified as any queen.

 

She could be a queen. She could rule this dark, brutal world by his side.

 

The thought tempted him, but he knew that it would be difficult to get her to agree. She'd have to be reprogrammed like he'd been, although he hoped there might be a less dangerous approach. He didn't want his Queen to die prematurely, after all. And then there was the whole blood purity issue. But at this point they had to compromise if they wanted any chance of surviving. Choosing someone as clever and strong as Hermione Granger could only benefit them.

 

His prisoner closed her book and finally looked up at him. "Could I have another?" she asked.

 

"Perhaps," he replied. "If I'm pleased with you."

 

She cocked her head. "I think I've been a very agreeable hostage, don't you?"

 

His lips twitched. "You're not a hostage. You're... a prisoner of war."

 

"I fail to see the difference."

 

"I don't mean to give you back, for starters. You're mine now. I own you. I plan to own you forever. How do you feel about that?"

 

She sniffed. "How would anyone feel about that?"

 

"It wouldn't have to be a bad life, I think."

 

"Here's my counter offer." She put down the book and moved closer to the bars. "You follow me into freedom, and then we'll see."

 

He sighed. She was tenacious if nothing else. "Right. You'd choose me. Just how mad do you think I am?"

 

She shook her head. "I don't think you're mad at all. I think you just need to get away from this toxic environment. And I think... I think I'll remember how well you've treated me."

 

"No, I can't do that." He pondered for a moment. "But if you'd stay, willingly, I might be persuaded to... challenge Voldemort."

 

Granger's eyes lit up. "Really?"

 

Draco sighed. "But how would I know you wouldn't just be waiting for your friends to take you away. How could I trust that you'd stay?"

 

Granger hesitated, then slowly said, "Because I'd Vow it."

 

***

 

An Unbreakable Vow that she wouldn't leave him no matter what. That was far more than he'd expected from Granger. With a Vow, he might not need to break her first, she would slowly but surely turn and become his Queen.

 

And she'd done it without making any fuss, looking him straight in the eye the whole time as Twitchy stood over them.

 

The thought excited him in ways he'd never been excited before. He was even sexually aroused, which was confusing to him. He hadn't been aroused without physically intimidating someone for as long as he could remember. The thought of having any kind of consensual sexual experience was strange. He hadn't been sure he was able to, but maybe he was? Maybe his Queen was the missing piece to the puzzle, the piece that would be strong enough even to keep him sane around her.

 

Maybe they could be almost... normal. He smiled, feeling almost like someone whose life was more than blood and death.

 

"Could I have another book, then?" his future Queen asked.

 

"You can have all the books in the world," he vowed.

 

She smiled. "One at a time would do. Oh, and do we really need this cage now?" She scowled at the bars.

 

Before Draco could respond, they were interrupted by Twitchy barging in. "She done it! Pansy killed Potter!"

 

Draco jumped to his feet. "She _what_? I told her not to do that!"

 

Twitchy shook his head, as disbelieving as Draco. "Apparently he said some things and she... she snapped."

 

Draco ran his hands through his hair. Well, _fuck_. That hadn't been a part of his plan.

 

"You had Harry?!"

 

Draco blinked at the cage. He'd all but forgotten Granger was there.

 

Twitchy grinned. "Yeah, for a good while, luv. We got him after Weasley spilled his guts. Literally."

 

" _WHAT?!_ "

 

Draco winced. This wasn't how he'd wanted her to learn of her friends. To Twitchy he said, "You have three seconds to remove yourself from my sight before I begin painting the walls with your blood."

 

Twitchy paled.

 

"One..."

 

And he was gone.

 

All blood had drained from Granger's face, her eyes gone wide. Draco held out his hands as if to calm her. "I know you're upset..."

 

"You had both of them," she whispered. "And you never told me, never let me see them. Not even once."

 

"I couldn't exactly--"

 

"And I can only begin to guess who killed poor Ron. It was you, wasn't it?"

 

"You've known all along who I was. It didn't matter, you said."

 

Granger started laughing shrilly, clutching the bars of her prison while tears began to stream down her cheeks.

 

"Don't cry," Draco said, trying to remain calm while his Monster was beginning to wake up.

 

"Or what?" she yelled. "Or you'll punish me? Kill everyone I love? You already have!"

 

"I didn't know Pansy would kill Potter."

 

"Oh, so you planned on letting him live?"

 

He had no reply for that. Not an honest one that wouldn't upset her, in any case.

 

She laughed again. "The ones that brought me food talked about how you say you have a Monster inside you. But it isn't true, is it? You _are_ the Monster."

 

Draco felt the Monster climbing. "Shut up," he growled.

 

"You know why I made this Vow? I was sacrificing myself so that you might kill Voldemort."

 

The Monster started clawing him to be let out. " _Shut up._ "

 

"But now I have no one left to save, and I can finally tell you how much you disgust me."

 

Draco growled, his vision growing red.

 

"I know why you let Ginny Weasley out. She was pregnant. She couldn't abort it. We tried, oh, how we tried to get rid of it. But you shielded it, didn't you? You shielded your evil spawn and tried to force her to have it."

 

He was mute with trying to control himself.

 

"Trying to breed her like the animal you are. I can't blame her for killing herself. I would have too! Who wouldn't rather die than carry your child?"

 

She all but spat the last words at him and that's when Draco lost control of the Monster.

 

***

 

Draco slowly woke from a deep slumber. He felt so satisfied on every level. At first he sighed with contentment, but then as his head cleared, he frowned.

 

He was satisfied on _every_ level.

 

"That's not ok," he muttered to himself. "We're faithful to our Queen, remember?"

 

Then his frown deepened as he tried to remember the night before. When the image of Granger yelling at him, taunting his Monster popped into his head, it was as if he'd been doused with ice water, and he jerked upright and stared at her cage.

 

It was empty.

 

He scrambled out of bed, feeling just how happy the Monster inside him was and dreading what it meant. He searched his memory, but there was nothing more. Nothing but a vague memory of blood, pain and pleasure.

 

The cage was unlocked. Stumbling into it, he felt around the few items in there, trying to find some clue to what had happened and where she was. Nothing was out of the ordinary until he flipped her blanket and noticed a blood stain.

 

The ice water seeped into his veins.

 

Panicked, he started yelling her name. He ran into the halls, searched rooms, barged into dungeon cells.

 

No Granger.

 

Turning around on his heels, he almost barged straight into Pansy. He frowned at her, confused at the dreamy look on her face, but then decided he didn't care. "Have you seen Granger?" he asked.

 

She slowly shook her head. "No..." then a light frown creased her brow. "But I've been meaning to talk to you..."

 

"Not now, Pansy."

 

"Yes, now!" It was said very firmly, making Draco blink with surprise. He couldn't remember a single time where Pansy had dared speak to him directly, much less demand anything of him. She continued, "I wish to break our engagement. I've... found another." She blushed.

 

Draco shrugged. "Fine by me." He took a few steps, but then suddenly a thought hit and he froze. "Uh, might I ask who this new chap is?"

 

Pansy giggled like a little girl. "Why, I think you know that," she coyly replied, and then she skipped off.

 

Filled with apprehension, Draco slowly walked the few steps over to the cell she'd left and looked in. What he'd saw confirmed his worst fears.

 

It was Potter. Dead. He had toppled over at an awkward angle, his hands still tied behind his back. If that hadn't been enough to convince Draco that all life had left his former nemesis, the unnaturally still and grey puffed up face would have done it.

 

Draco heard footsteps approaching and demanded, "Why didn't they remove it yet?"

 

"She refused to let them," his father's defeated voice replied. "She became so hysterical that they decided to just let her have him... it."

 

"Get Twitchy to do it."

 

"Who?"

 

Draco waved his hand. "That... young one..."

 

"You mean the one you killed last night?"

 

Draco slowly turned his head, arching an eyebrow, part of him relieved to hear of another kill. Then maybe... just maybe... Granger was safe.

 

His father shuddered. "You seemed quite... angry with him. I've never actually seen a spine ripped out before... You do seem to know some interesting spells."

 

Draco grinned. It sounded like his Monster had had it's fun. But then his thoughts returned to Pansy. "Perhaps it's time to get her away from here. You can do that again, can't you?"

 

His father hesitated. "But we have so few women..."

 

"She's in a relationship with a corpse."

 

Lucius sighed and nodded. "I'll take care of it. It'll be a mercy for her to get away from... this."

 

Remembering his original purpose, Draco turned away from the dungeon cell. "Have you seen Granger?"

 

"You're looking for her?" His father seemed stunned and heartbroken. Draco tried not to read into that.

 

"Yes. She's gone. But I know she couldn't escape on her own. She made the Vow and--" He cut himself off when he heard the tremble in his own voice. He was afraid for her. Terrified what might have happened, what he might have done.

 

His father put his hand on Draco's shoulder and for once Draco allowed it. "Don't worry, Son. I have her." The words were uttered with a world-weary gravity that contradicted the happy news.

 

Draco decided to focus on the words. _She is fine. She is safe._ "You? Why?"

 

"You weren't... quite yourself. So I decided to take her away. To keep her safe. You're quite fond of her, aren't you?"

 

Draco felt his cheeks heat, such an unfamiliar occurrence, and he awkwardly rubbed his neck. "She's Muggle-born."

 

A ghost of a smile flitted across Lucius's face. "If my son chose her, then she's worth it."

 

"Ah." Draco coughed a little awkwardly. Perhaps the explanation was really that simple. Hope surged in Draco's chest, but then he remembered something and it plummeted again. "But she hates me. I feel that she... she'd really rather..."

 

Draco's father squeezed his shoulder. "She won't remember any of that, I promise you."

 

If she didn't remember, then maybe... maybe she'd like him. "Can I go to her?"

 

His father nodded, hesitantly at first but then growing in determination. "I think..." He sighed deeply. "I think it's about time we all go, don't you? No hope left here." He was looking straight at Potter's corpse as he uttered the last words.

 

Draco felt much the same. Like his _raison d'être_ was gone and he had no place here. "Now?" he asked.

 

"Now." His father hesitated, then said, "Son... I really... I just want to tell you something."

 

This was unexpected and Draco frowned in confusion.

 

"It was my decisions that brought us here. My..." Lucius' voice broke. "They stole you and made us forget we even had a son. Your mother... She didn't know."

 

A faint whisper of a memory teased at Draco's consciousness.

 

_Bringing the knife down. Again and again. Watching as the blood soaked through the blankets, seeing her now open and tearful eyes go blank. Hearing that last gargle. Watching a drop of blood trickle from her mouth. Laughing._

 

Draco shook his head. A dream. It was just a dream.

 

"You were always our perfect baby boy," Lucius whispered. "What they did to you, what they made you do, could never change how we saw... how we see you."

 

But it had changed him, made him filthy and bloody. Draco suddenly felt like his skin was too tight for the Monster inside him. It was growing, trying to burst its way out.

 

It was destroying him and taking over his life. Or had it already?

 

"Any chance I could forget too?" he asked.

 

"Yes," Lucius muttered. "Oblivion for us all." Then he gave Draco's shoulder one last squeeze and walked off, looking far older than his years.

 

Draco gave Potter one last glance and then walked to another cell, one with an obfuscated door, and went inside. The corpse on the floor was exactly as he'd left it, only now bloated, stinking, and with flies buzzing around his face.

 

He went over and poked the former Dark Lord with his foot. No response. Then he kicked him, hard. The body rolled over, staring up at the ceiling.

 

This was the being that had ruined countless lives and decimated the entire wizarding population. And for what? To end up killed by his own faithful dog, rotting in a hidden cell without anyone even realising he was gone yet.

 

"Well..." Draco muttered. "See you soon." Then he left the cell.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

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> [Constructive reviews welcome](http://malreviews.blogspot.dk/p/the-s-movement.html) (link goes to the S&R movement's info page)


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